


The Book

by Of_Princes_and_Savages



Series: Beauty within the Beast 'verse [2]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Dark One Belle, Erotica, F/M, Like DO!Belle wouldn't have some dirty books?, Masturbation, Spinner Rumpelstiltskin, The Spinner Finds the Smut, dark castle smut, pshaw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-20
Updated: 2016-09-20
Packaged: 2018-08-16 01:50:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8081953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Of_Princes_and_Savages/pseuds/Of_Princes_and_Savages
Summary: There are hundreds, if not thousands, of books in the Dark Castle. So how had he stumbled across this one?





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hmm, y'know, a good alternative title to this would be "The innocent spinner!Rumple finds a naughty book in the Dark Castle, and really needs to get laid", but sadly, he does not get laid. *pets him* This is basically inspired by a perverted muse thinking spinner!Rumple would he so awkward if he needed to take care of himself, sooo...

There were so many books in the Dark Castle that Rumpelstiltskin often wondered just where Belle had gotten them all. Had they all been here when she claimed the castle as her own, or had she developed her library over the course of centuries? Maybe both. Probably both, as there were more books than one could read in an entire lifetime carefully stored on the shelves, on every topic from the mundane to the bizarre, as thin as the nib of a quill to as thick as his head, as small as his hand, to large enough that it was surely as tall as Belle herself. Those exotic books were on a shelf in the very back, dusty ancient things that rarely saw use.

Belle, despite her great passion for reading, was a very messy librarian. She rarely put back a book, leaving them stacked all over the place in the library, until she could be bothered to reorganize them with a snap of her fingers. Until he started shelving them, they had been piled on tables and sofas, even some found their way to stacks on the floors.

Truly his mistress was a bookworm at heart, something that was... _charming_ , he thought. _Endearing._

Rumpelstiltskin would never stop being impressed by the library. Ask a question and there was an answer, somewhere, among the rows of shelves for you. He'd turned to reading as his new hobby since there was no roving for the silver spinning wheel upstairs and he had no yarn to work with anymore, and had learned many interesting new things. Cookbooks, by far, were the most practical things he'd read. There was one book that told you how to clean most anything, which was useful as Belle sometimes had the most peculiar stains on her clothes after brewing a potion. And then there were just simply interesting books, like one written about psychic phenomenon and another dedicated to obscure facts.

And then one day, he found a book that was interesting for all the wrong reasons...

It was a steadily drizzling day outside, caught between a warm spring and a cold winter, meeting somewhere in the middle with a wet, windy, unpleasant climate outside the windows. Belle would be out on a deal of some sort for hours yet, and having finished his chores for that day, Rumpelstiltskin picked a new section of the library and started looking for something interesting to read.

With his ankle, he couldn't really climb the ladders to reach higher shelves. But there was still enough books to keep him occupied on his own level, and still more on shelves he'd yet tapped. The only trouble with that, was that he never knew what genre of books it was until he started picking through the selection. You weren't sure what you'd end up with, astronomy or a dry political policy, an old ledger or a children's book.

The first two books in this section, he'd thought, were fictional. Belle had a great many novels, it wouldn't surprise him if more were over here. They'd both been told from the viewpoint of a woman, one a noblewoman, one a lovely peasant girl, and both were in love with the same handsome, brooding sort of fellow that was generously described in great detail, down to the thickness of his calf muscles, for some reason. He'd only opened the books to random pages and started skimming, but saw nothing terribly interesting...and then he'd opened that third book and nearly squawked aloud.

Certainly not a simple novel, and _certainly not_ children's books.

On one page was a drawing of a beautiful young woman, dressed in a nightgown, the skirt rucked up and her hand between her thighs and a look of rapture on her serene face. The other page was far more graphic, depicting a naked couple in a field, the man lying on his back with an abandoned shepherds crook lying near him, and a dark-haired woman straddling his hips, guiding his cock inside of her. The shepherd's face was the picture of tortured bliss, and it had never occurred to Rumpelstiltskin until this moment that the woman could be on top while making love. (He really shouldn't find that so interesting, he chided himself, as it wasn't like he'd be applying that tidbit of information anytime soon.)

He shut the book and stood there a moment.

Then, he opened the book again, peering at a different set of illustrations. This time it had a woman on her hands and knees, skirts flipped over her waist, being taken from behind by a man wearing just his unbuttoned shirt and his trousers shoved around his knees. The woman was depicted in mid cry, which didn't look very comfortable, while the man's face was somewhat...savage.

The other page depicted two men, kissing, one man with an arm around his neck while his arm was linked around his, uh, _friend's_ waist. Their hands were busy with their cocks, rubbing them together, and looking rather pleased with whatever sensations it caused. Rumpelstiltskin wasn't entirely sure how to feel about that, but it didn't look unpleasant, he supposed?

He licked his lips, turning the page. This time there was a woman wrapped around a man, trapped between him and the wall as he thrust into her, and on the other page there was a nun sitting on an altar dressed in nothing but her wimple and veil while a monk knelt between her thighs and lapped at her core, the nun holding him there like she couldn't bear for him to stop. That image gave Rumpelstiltskin pause because holy men and women were supposed to be chaste.

Why were they...wasn't it wrong to... _shouldn't the altar be off limits for that?!_

Swallowing, he turned the pages again. And again. It was a wonder the book didn't burst into flames, or perhaps the illustrator had died via immolation instead. Because this...imagery was positively brimming with lust. There were three women, one writing in pleasure while the others kissed her breasts and touched her core. One woman wore not a stitch of clothing but busily polished a rather phallic-looking candlestick while an overeager nobleman watched with his length in hand. One man was buried inside a woman beneath him while another man was on top of him, thrusting away.

Oh.

Goodness...

Rumpelstiltskin licked his dry lips again as he turned to a new page and his eyes widened.

There was a woman, dressed like a proper lady from her coiffed hair to her fine gown to her dainty slippers, seated primly on a chair, holding a leash. As far as that went, it could have been any noblewoman in a portrait with a pet...only...her "pet" was a naked man wearing a collar hooked to her leash, on his hands and knees, leaning into the touch of her hand as she stroked his hair. He looked utterly content, the man, and his lady gazed benevolently down at him.

He found on the next page a man lying on his belly, spread-eagled on the bed, a look of utter enchantment on his face as woman straddled his lower back, petting his shoulders. They were unclothed, ( _of course_ ,) but there was nothing inherently sexual, about this image, but it was so... _intimate_. His trousers felt oddly tight, and he wasn't sure why because it had gone completely neglected.

Pictures couldn't do...that, alone. Right?

Moving through the pages, Rumpelstiltskin quickly found himself transfixed by the illustrations that plainly featured women as the one in charge. Some of them were rather painful looking, with whips and stomping on a rather delicate part of anatomy. (How was that...how did that _work_?) And some looked...interesting.

There was one image of a man with his hands tied to the arms of his chair, while the woman sat on top of him, seeking out her pleasure. Then there was a lady dressed in breeches and a billowing shirt, smirking down at the man frantically tugging at himself, as though seeking her approval. And then there was a woman standing in nothing but a corset and tall leather boots, her head thrown back as a young man knelt before her worshipping her with his mouth. Rumpelstiltskin felt...he felt...it felt like...

Emotionally, he couldn't describe the tight knot in his belly. Physically, he was keenly aware of his aching balls, and his breath catching. He attempted to adjust his trousers, but the sudden friction made him moan, blood rushing to his face at the pitiful sound. Thank gods he was alone. It was embarrassing enough to hear himself make that noise, what if Belle...

Rumpelstiltskin shivered, slumping with his back against the shelves. Oh...oh what if Belle _had_ heard him?

The page open to him now was an overhead view of a couple lying on their sides, the man wearing an expression of drowsy bliss. The woman lay spooned up behind him, nuzzling into his neck, while her hand was gently holding his cock. That looked...comfortable. The man's hair was a bit long, and the woman's hair was tied up in a messy knot, sort of how Belle favored her hair...

Hesitantly, Rumpelstiltskin reached for his belt. There was an obscene tent in his trousers, and he'd yet to even touch himself. But before he unfastened his flies, he stopped. What the _hell_ was he doing? Was he really going to touch himself? In his mistress's library? No. No this was a bad idea. No.

If she caught him here, his hand hovering over his bulging crotch, would she laugh at him? Would she scowl and scold him? Would she blush? Or...or would she...

Rumpelstiltskin brushed his fingers over the front of his trousers, his eyes fluttering shut. Oh. Oh gods.

Would Belle want him to sink down on the floor, and would she order him to present himself to her? Would she want him to please her first, in that peculiar way with his mouth, or his fingers? Or would she want to use him for her own pleasure, like the couple on the chair?

Would she bind his hands? Would she let him touch? Gods, he hoped so. His mistress was so lovely, small and perfect. Her skin was smooth and cool and the sleek, firm texture had never repelled him. It was _fascinating_. If she permitted it, he would kiss her all over, learning what pleased her best. Would she thread her slender fingers through his hair, guiding him where he was needed? Would she want to be on top of him, or would she want to take him in her...no, he wouldn't ask her to take him in her mouth. Belle was too fine a lady.

But...but maybe she would take him in hand?

Would she be gentle, like...like in the book? Would she kiss and nuzzle against him, stroke his hair, curl around him when the lovemaking was finished? He'd been an inept virgin when he married Milah, and he...really hadn't learned much. A few nights each month, her rutted against her in an effort to produce a child, trying not to look at the blank expressions she pulled when he took too long or the resignation when he came too soon. He knew he bored her, and after Baelfire was born she reminded him, _frequently_ , how worthless he was.

It would be better for Belle to just use him like a...a...a _whore_ , and the word would make him blush if he had the blood to spare. Yes. A whore. Her pet. He cupped himself and gasped, bucking into his palm, imagining, for a moment, that Belle stood behind him, that it was her hand on his cock, giggling as she unfastened his trousers and pulled him out. The air was cold on his overheated flesh, causing him to hiss, leaning back against the shelves when his knees went weak.

_"Oh, poor love," she crooned, stroking his quivering belly. "Have I neglected you? If I had known what a needy little thing you were, I would have taken care of you. Isn't that what you want though? You want me to take your cock and fuck you hard?"_

"Yes...y-yes..." he moaned, gripping himself tightly, the sensation almost enough to make him shout. "Oh...oh yes..."

The leaking tip of his cock was a violent shade of purple, the rest of him engorged and red. He hoped that it was enough to please his imaginary Belle if she saw him like this, that she would enjoy his desperation rather than find it repulsive. At the base of his cock was a dark nest of curls, that none of the men in the book had had, and hopefully she wouldn't mind that either.

What if...what if Belle _liked_ the way he looked? What if she smirked, taking him in hand and wanking him herself. If she did it, it would be slow, and he forced his pace to match the rhythmic tugs in his imagination. Oh. Oh _gods_ that was _torture_...would that be what she wanted? To...to take him to her large bed, in her room, and have him lay there while she tugged at his hard flesh? Fully dressed while he, her unworthy servant, lay bare and vulnerable? Or would she be bare, too, and preparing him to...to _be taken_ , ridden hard and merciless, whether he came or not?

How would she treat him afterwards? Would she leave him there, wanting and needy, or would she turn him on his side and...and spoon up behind him, fitted like puzzle pieces, and take his aching cock in her cool, sleek hand? Gods, he felt so hot, blood boiling in his veins. That cold little hand, wrapped around him, soothing and maddening all at once, oh, oh gods, _oh..._

"Belle..." he whimpered, his hips bucking against his will. "Oh, oh gods, please...please...oh, p-please, _gods please_...!"

Would she nip at his flushed skin then? Leaving love-bites, her claim, in plain view of anyone who saw him? _The Dark One's property_. Or would she jerk him hard and fast, but kiss at the sweat beading on his skin? Would she whisper encouragement in his ear? Would she say filthy things in that beautiful voice?

And...and when he did come, would she grant him a kiss?

Of everything his lust-addled brain had imagined so far, out of all the perversions in that bloody book dropped and abandoned on the floor, the one thing that utterly ruined him was the thought of Belle pressing a gentle kiss to his mouth. A simple, sweet press of her full lips against his...

He came with a wail, then and there, dropping to his knees and still fucking into his fist as his seed spilled over his hand onto the floor. His body was so heavy and limp he almost fell over in a post-orgasmic coma, and finally had to stop touching his spent, oversensitive cock.

Rumpelstiltskin took a deep, shaky breath, trying to piece his brain back to a state of working order.

That had been a mistake. His anxieties began crowding in around him, making him realize he was collapsed on his knees in Belle's beloved library, his come splattered on the floors he was supposed to keep clean, the stupid book laying discarded where it had fallen and what the hell was he going to do if Belle came home to find him like this?

As soon as his legs could support him, he tucked himself back into his trousers and hobbled to collect a rag to wipe up with. He'd finished cleaning up his mess, (fuck, he was a disgusting animal!) and reshelved the book, and it was like nothing had ever happened. Except for the soreness in certain unused muscle groups, and a sort of... _chafed_ feeling.

Gods. Could this day get anymore embarrassi- **No!** He was not jinxing it! He was going to start work on dinner, and he'd go to bed early and try to put this whole incident, and that fucking book behind him, without acknowledging that juvenile pun in referring to that book as such!

He limped down to the kitchens, and that was the end of that as far as Rumpelstiltskin was concerned.

* * *

Tucked in a back corner of Belle's library that rarely saw the light of day, even with the windows open, were books that were useful for her urges. A few bodice-rippers, a couple of informative manuals, and a few wood print compendiums. Belle could use her fingers or one of her toys, and lately, both had seen an increase of use. She could never pinpoint why, whether it was stress and she needed the endorphin high, or just one of those extra-horny moods she got into once a decade or so. (And she stubbornly ignored the extra occupant in her castle as a trigger...) Today, she was in the mood for something special, so she sought out her favorite, ah, aid.

She had picked up this particular book about two centuries ago. She realized that she could, in fact, have control in the bedroom and the specter of Gaston faded over a length of time and she became curious. Belle had gotten it from "The Whore Capitol", which was a rather unique title for a town where two-thirds of the population were prostitutes or some kind, and another percentage were healers that specialized in treating the pox and the like.

Not a place for a family vacation, unless you were a rather kinky couple, she supposed.

She found the discreet, leather bound book in the usual spot on the shelf. The floor was recently cleaned, she noticed. A slight blush rose to her cheeks at the thought of Rumpelstiltskin wandering down this aisle. The man was, in a word, innocent. He would have a heart attack if he ever saw the pictures in this book in particular.

Teleporting up to her locked bedroom, Belle flipped the book to one of her favorite pages, the image with the woman curled around her lover, gently stroking his cock as he lay there utterly boneless in his pleasure. She bit her lip thoughtfully, noticing that the man's hair was a bit long, spreading out attractively as the woman nuzzled his nape. With a bit of squinting, he looked...a lot liiiike...

Belle blushed, flipping to another picture. No, no, she could not handle that train of thought today, no thank you.

She magicked off her dress and situated herself against the mound of pillows, flipping idly through the images of lovers. Whenever she came to a single man, or a man and woman, her brain very unhelpfully started singling out familiar features and adding others. She really shouldn't be doing this...however...she was the Dark One, right? And it wasn't like she had thrown her ca- _Any random man_ , down on her bed to lay with her, right?

Gently cupping her breast, Belle smiled down on the picture of a man with his head tilted back, long hair falling from around his face. He was a slender thing, his expression an exquisite mix of pain and pleasure. Desperate and blissful. It was hardly a stretch of her imagination to pretend she was sitting here on her bed, watching him tug on his overeager cock and tease his sensitive nipples at her instructions. He would want to please her, yes, he would want to please her so very much, his mistress, her sweet little pet...perhaps she would make him wait until she was thoroughly sated before allowing him to come?

But her resolve would never last, not with those gasps of need and those pleading brown eyes...

Oh _fuck_.


End file.
